Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The summer sun beats down on Selphia’s Royal Gardens, and the Princess sits amongst the seeds, tired chest heaving. Frey gives up and falls onto her back, gasping in deep breaths of air. Her fields stretch out to her right, with only a fertilizer box for company. Frey isn’t much for company, not yet. The new moon has just broke, and the citizens of Selphia are warm, but wary. Frey can’t blame them, but she’s unsure of who to trust as well.

She stares into the sky, watching the clouds roll past. Some look like bunnies, others like wolves. Frey thinks of the monsters of the forest, of the monsters in the plains. The Wooly population is so cute, but something deep inside Frey knows that something dark lurks where she hasn’t yet tread. There have been reports of a deathly yowl coming from the southern end of the plains, too. Of storms raging across the sky, propelled on by thunder and lightning and everything frightening. People say they’re afraid to go down there and fish. They say it’s haunted.

They said that about Yokmir Forest, too.

Frey turns to her right by virtue rolling on her side and plays with a bulb, freshly planted and watered in the rich soil. The green is so new it’s almost white, and Frey knows she won’t see a flower for a long time yet. A cloud passes overhead, casting the entire field into shadow. Frey wonders how bad the storms get over the Gardens - if the typhoons are as bad as they say.

She wonders what causes them. She wonders, because she knows nothing else.

Frey wonders if anyone else looks at her like they do with the baby bulbs. So clueless, so oblivious. A fighter, because that’s ingrained in her muscles - but not her memory. So sweet and cute, because she knows how to be pretty, but is that really who she is? Is it really who she wants to be?

In the coming weeks, Frey will grow, just like the flower. She’ll investigate, because she knows how to be kind, and she truly, desperately, wants to help. But Frey wonders if she’ll like who she’ll become - if she’s a shadow of the self she never knew, or if she’ll surpass that she can’t even compare to. Frey wonders if the woman she used to be would’ve been proud of who she is.

Chapter Text

An arrow slices into her back, and Frey screams. She’d been exploring Yokmir Forest for a few days now, curious about the hidden paths beyond the main grassy drag. Foolish and curious and oh-so-excited, she’d let her guard down as she peered into the pond.

That was when the first arrow had flown through her shoulder.

Frey had rolled to the side to avoid another volley of arrows before darting forward and drawing her Short Daggers, slicing through the Orc Archers with practiced ease. Her left blade had slammed into the chest of one of the orcs, caving in its breastplate. Frey had dropped with the motion, slipping underneath the second archer and turning on her knees to stab her blade into the back of its thigh.

And then she began to run.

Frey had bolted through Yokmir Forest, over the bridge and through the woods, wincing in pain as her shoulder ripped apart. She’d only had the time to stop after she sprinted past the Orc Archer at the base of Yokmir’s drop off, skidding to a stop high above him at the edge of the cliff. The cries of the incensed Orc Archers followed her, but Frey gave herself the time to take a breather. Frey had opened up a Recovery Potion, taking a deep draught before -

An arrow slices into her back, and Frey screams, the bottle falling out of her hands and shattering into a million pieces at her feet. She turns, one hand moving toward her weapon, the other useless as her shoulder knits itself back together. Ten Archers march up the cliff, snarling in rage, firing indiscriminately.

Frey doesn't look back. She doesn't hesitate. She jumps.

Wind whistles past her as she falls, the cries of the Orc Archers dwindling. Frey tries to count seconds as the sun turns into a speck, and she wonders, briefly, what she’ll crash into, before her instincts kick in and she tucks herself into a little ball. She’d fallen onto a dragon - a little bit of rock won’t hurt her.

And it doesn’t. As Frey plummets toward the ground, she calls for the earth to protect her. It sings in her presence, the winds slowing, the earth softening, the rock crumbling to accommodate her body. Frey rolls with the impact of her body smashing into the earth, digging her knives into the ground to stop her momentum before she crashes into a cave wall. Her magic and muscle work in unison to save her.

Frey stands on shaky feet, pulling out another Recovery Potion. She doesn’t truly need it, her shoulder can at least rotate, but better safe than sorry after a drop like that. She downs the lime green liquid, letting the warm magic permeate her body as the heat of the sun is no longer there to kiss her skin. While the magic flows through her, Frey takes a look around. Emerald deposits sparkle to her right, with a few Rune Crystals sparking on her left. And in front of her. . .

The earth calls to her, a small pocket of magic only she can see. Frey isn’t sure who she writes to, but she pours her soul into the Diary, into the moment in time. Frey doesn’t know what purpose it serves, these little points and pockets of pure magic that only she can see, but she respects them. Perhaps they’re places Earth Mates have been born, and recorded their histories, but Frey isn’t sure if she’d want to live in a gloomy cave like this, no matter how attached to her native element it’d make her.

Frey sighs and looks to the sky, a dimly glowing circle high above her. No way out.

She squares her shoulders and soldiers on.

Chapter Text

The newborn twins sleep soundly in their crib, moonlight shining in from the open door to the Royal Gardens. Frey leans over the edge, pigtails dusting their swaddled bodies. They’re so new to this world, just as she was, all those fateful years ago.

Noel turns in his sleep, a tiny fist coming up to bat the air. Frey removes her glove and reaches down, and instinctively his little fingers curl around her index. His eyes open. Just like his mama, always a light sleeper. Luna will wake soon, too.

His eyes are so bright, just like hers. He and Luna had been born with full heads of hair and bright green eyes, taking after Frey. Taking after an Earthmate. Frey worries for their future - of if anyone like Ethelberd still lives, still hates her kind for being blessed with the bounty of the land. Of if the Sechs hate her for disposing of their Emperor.

Frey knows it takes a village to raise a child, let alone protect one, and as she stares down at Noel and Luna, she’s so grateful it’s Selphia who is with her on this journey. Volkanon had cried for hours in joy when Nancy had emerged from behind the curtain, tired but proclaiming three healthy bodies. Twins, and a proud mother.

Volkanon had been crying a lot lately, Frey knew. It took a village to raise a child.

But the one person who would’ve loved Noel and Luna the most was long gone.

Frey sighs and looks over her shoulder towards the door that leads to the main body of the castle, and the empty podium that sat within. Ventuswill, the Divine Wind, had died saving Frey, choosing to let her essence return to the earth and replenish the land. She left the world with the woman they’d come to love instead of the Dragon they prayed to.

A soft cry breaks Frey out of her reverie, she looks down to see Luna staring up at her, tears shining on her cheeks. Another falls down. With a tired laugh, Frey wipes her daughter’s face dry, and then her own.

“She would’ve loved you, you know,” Frey whispers. Noel wakes back up with a fuss, grabbing for his mama’s fingers again. “Imagine that.” Her voice lowers into a conspiratorial tone, and her twins meet her eyes as she dances her fingers above their faces. “Blessing a Divine Dragon.”

They’re too young to understand, but Luna gives a gurgle of a giggle anyway.

The twins grow up hearing legends and lore about Lady Ventuswill. They hear people sing the praises of the Divine Wind, of the dragon that kept Selphia safe and the people who sacrificed their lives for her time and time and time and time again.

Leon tells them of a beautiful dragon who’d bite them if they were naughty with a wink and a smirk and a pat on the head, leaving their imaginations spinning.

Dolce weaves stories about a lonely woman who sat at the top of the mountain, keeping everyone company and yet at arm’s length. Pico asks Dolce if she’s referring to herself.

Dylas is quiet, but mentions now and again the virtue of giving yourself up for something greater. A sacrifice to make on your own, but one made out of true devotion.

Amber giggles and skips and sings about the greatest friend she ever knew.

The twins grow up hearing legends and lore and love about Lady Ventuswill. They watch their mother struggle to keep up her legacy, torn between running a town and going out into the Forest of Beginnings and fighting tooth and nail to bring her back. Noel and Luna watch as Frey makes pancakes every day on the fourth of spring for a woman who can no longer appreciate them. They watch, and listen, and slowly come to realize that their birth saved the town from despair.

Noel and Luna grow up with an impossible legacy. But when the day comes that their mother descends into Rune Prana, Noel and Luna are right at her heels.

Chapter Text

Frey drops to a knee at the end of Maya Road. A deep slice in her back makes breathing harder than it already is, and when she tries to regain her footing she nearly falls back down. She’s pretty sure she has a radial fracture in her left arm, if the cruel, stabbing pain is anything to go by. Frey grimaces, and braces her hands on her knees before pushing herself to her -

She drops again, pain ripping through her body. Everything in front of her fades in and out, and Frey dimly notes the blood sluggishly running down the back of her left thigh. She stabs one half of her Twin Blades into the dirt with her good arm and takes a deep, shuddering breath to regain herself. Frey knows she can’t afford to use a Master Cure right now; her Rune Points are too low. Using up the last of them means using up the last of her Health Points.

She’s so close. She can’t double back to Nancy and Jones now. Not when the Sechs Territory is within her grasp. With steel in her eyes, Frey gets to her feet a third time and lunges.

Her hand settles on top of the Diary, and Frey pours her soul into the pocket of magic. She feels something tether her to this point, keeps her soul tied to this moment in time. For now, she’s safe.

Frey reaches into her Bag and pulls out the last of her Fruit Smoothies and downs them in one go. Magic courses through her body, repairing her wounds and revitalizing her connection with the earth. The gash on her back knits itself back together. The crack in her forearm seals. The torn muscle of her thigh repairs itself. It’s altogether an uncomfortable experience, the pain of months of healing happening in an instant, but Frey is more than used to it by now.

She picks up the fallen half of her Twin Blade, twirling it in her grip.

Frey has died here, once before. She knows it, deep in her soul. But that’s not going to stop her.

Frey crosses the barrier.

The battle starts with a heartbeat, deep and thrumming. It had happened with Terrable, too, but in the end Frey had stood tall, even after Earth Spike after Earth Spike had been thrown at her in the depths of Idra Cave. Frey casts her gaze to the sky, and immediately dives to the left as a searing gout of flame burns past her. Fiersome, giant and orange and on fire, lands on the cliff with a crash that shakes the earth, and Frey loses her balance, tumbling to the ground.

Through bleary eyes she looks up to see Fiersome roar, the cry so loud her ears pop. Frey doesn’t even have a moment to dodge as Fiersome’s wing sweeps out, catching her body and slamming her spine-first into the rock.

Frey crumples like one of Arthur’s old papers, body folding in half. Fiersome charges her, and it takes every ounce of self-control she has to stand her ground. Her Twin Blades have fallen out of her grip, but her magic comes from within. Frey throws her hands to the sky and calls upon Prism. She’d only just found the spell in Maya Road itself, four glowing balls of light hidden away in the corner of a cave. Frey knows she has little control over the final tier of Light Magic, but at this point, she has no choice.

Four spinning balls of light encircle Frey’s torso, rapidly swirling around her body and beating Fiersome back. The monster stumbles away with a pained cry, and Frey darts forward, ducking under its wing. The light blinds her too, spots dancing in front of her eyes and blurring the battlefield. Frey feels the wing Fiersome sends at her more than she sees it, so she drops to her knees and slides the rest of the way to her weapon. The wing sails harmlessly over her head. Frey clips her Twin Blades to her back just in time for the Native Dragon’s other wing to slap her in the back so hard she goes face-first into the rocks.

Fiersome begins to spin on its tail, wings whipping the air to create a vortex of pain. Frey stumbles to her feet and backs to the edge of the cliff. Wind whistles beneath her, spurned on by the great tornado Fiersome had tried to ensnare her in. Prism has worn off, so Frey casts it again. A deep ache settles into her bones. Far too much magic, far too fast. She doesn’t have a choice.

A ball of fire is incinerated by the holy light Frey calls upon, and she notices with a terrible start that Fiersome is calling for fire to rain down from the sky. She’s trapped. Frey’s heart beats faster, adrenaline coursing through her veins. Prism reacts to the beat by pulsating in time as it spins, spurned on by her burgeoning panic. Prism soon fizzles out, however - the balls of fire are too populous to ignore, and burns begin to litter her skin.

Despite her skin bubbling, Frey’s eyes don’t leave the beast across from her. Fiersome rears onto its legs, and Frey has just enough time to leap to her right as the dragon breathes fire. The gout of flame is sent into the wind, swirling harmlessly in the open air. Frey had been standing there not a second before, and a shiver courses down her spine. The scent of smoke and Margaret’s perfume fills the air, and dimly Frey realizes her hair must’ve been caught in the blast. That could’ve been her. With trembling hands, Frey grabs her Twin Blades and runs forward, calling upon Gust.

The powerful Rune Ability sends Frey into the air, keeping her high above the fireball that Fiersome had aimed right at her heart. Frey slams down onto the beast’s head with the Rune Ability, calling upon Prism one final time. The balls of light repeatedly slam into Fiersome - now to attack instead of protect. At such close quarters, the magical attack shreds right through the scales. Frey drops to the ground, tearing a gash through the armored body as she goes with her Twin Blades. Once on the ground, Frey slices out one more time, ripping open the softer belly.

The heartbeat starts up again.

Quick booms emanate from the Native Dragon and Frey bolts for the cliffside, bracing herself against the rock as Fiersome’s soul tries to return to the Forest of Beginnings. Bright white light glows from the cracks in the shattered scales, and the beast roars as it falls onto its stomach. The light grows ever brighter, and Frey buries her head in the rock as the entire cliffside battlefield whites out.

When Frey turns around, all that’s left are two piles of Fire Dragon Ash.

Maya Road is hers.

Chapter Text

“Good morning!” Frey chirps as she enters the rightmost Monster Barn in her eastern fields. She’s immediately besieged by what she’s dubbed as her ‘flower family’, a fearsome foursome consisting of a Flower Lily, Lion, Blossom, and Crystal.

Autumn, her Lily, is on-top of her first, squealing in delight and wrapping its vines around her legs. Frey checks over the Flower’s head, noting her petals are smelling delightfully sweet. The rot that had eaten away at her head is finally fading. Frey checks over Autumn’s shoulder and sees a Vine off in the corner near the water trough. She’s even feeling good enough to produce!

“Oh, good work!” Frey praises, running a hand over Autumn’s head. The flower rocks back and forth on its vine at the compliment before rushing past Frey and out the door, crying into the heated summer sun. Frey peered out the door with a giggle as Autumn rooted in the dirt, soaking up the nutrients from the tilled soil.

“Summer, won’t you make sure Autumn finishes her part of the harvest?” Frey asks, turning to her Flower Lion. Summer and Autumn were siblings, both from western end of the Selphia Plains. Summer crows in the positive, bobbing up and down on its bright orange vine, a stark contrast to the pink of her sibling. She slithers forward and Frey rubs her head in turn. Unlike her sister, Summer’s petals are far more robust and healthy in a lovely, shining shade of yellow.

Even the Plant Stem Summer produces is far more vibrant compared to her sister’s produce. Summer rubs her head against Frey’s hip before bounding out of the Barn and into the fields. Summer calls to her sister, beckoning the Flower Lily out of the sun and into the plants, where the pair begin to putter about the Pink Melons.

Impatient for attention, Frey’s Flower Blossom, Spring, bounces into the air and careens into her chest, knocking Frey onto her back. Frey bursts out laughing as Spring wraps its green vines around her arms, forcing her up and into a cuddle. “Hey, it’s okay, I’m here,” Frey comforts, pulling Spring closer to her chest as she gets to her feet. Spring is the second youngest Flower Frey owns, and the most needy. Spring had followed Frey for days as she collected Crystal Seeds on Sercerezo Hill, whining and crying to be taken home with the Princess. Frey hadn’t been able to resist the adorable little monster, officially bonding with her due to some gifts in the form of Summer’s Plant Stems.

“Go and play with the others,” Frey says, setting Spring down and ushering her out the door. “I’ve got delicious new fodder for you when you’re done~” Spring looks back at her and whines, but skitters out the door as Frey gives a firm point. Frey turns on her heel, and -

“There you are.”

The fourth and final Flower, Crystal, a Flower Crystal (Frey had never been good with names), stands in the doorway to the second half of the barn. Frey hasn’t found any new monsters, not that she was confident that Crystal would be willing to accept them to begin with. She’s been standoffish since the beginning, only following Frey amidst the Sechs Territory for food and to test her mettle.

Frey squats down and holds out a hand. Crystal is a prideful creature, and as she inches closer, she holds out a Strong Vine to Frey - the color the same as her own.

“It’s beautiful,” Frey says, and holds out her hand once more after she takes the Strong Vine.

Crystal is blind.

Flower Crystals aren’t born with eyes, unlike Lilies, Lions, or Blossoms, and even if they did have them, Frey isn’t sure they’d be able to see to begin with due to the coating of ice that covers their entire bodies. Crystal noses into Frey’s hand, and the Princess giggles at the cool touch.

“It’s a bit hot today,” Frey warns as she stands. She does have fodder to deliver, after all. “You’d best be careful out there.”

The monster caws back at her, flapping its leaf-like arms. Frey knows Crystal can’t see her smile, so once she’s done dumping the fodder into the bin, she rubs Crystal alongside the back of her petals, just the way she likes it. “But I believe in you.”

Chapter Text

Dylas looked down at Frey, sleeping peacefully under the last rays of the summer sun. He’d just reached Dragon Lake for a bit of fishing before the cool air brough new fish, but he’d found his usual spot occupied by a sleeping Princess.

Dylas looked away and covered his mouth with his hand. Frey was wearing her swimsuit, and while it wasn’t too weird since he was similarly dressed, Dylas still felt like a voyeur for gazing upon Frey in such an outfit.

As Dylas deliberated on how to wake her -should he kick some sand at her, maybe poke her with his fishing rod, call Forte, even?-, Frey stirred beneath him. With a muttered curse Dylas leapt back, a furious blush coming up to heat his cheeks. He’d been casting a shadow right over her!

Frey rubbed at one of her eyes and yawned, before turning on her side and blinking sleepily. A split second later, she’d sat up like a shot, a wide smile breaking across her face. “Dylas!”

“Er - hi.” He hated how lame he sounded.

“Oh!” Frey said, her bright eyes going wide as she zeroed in on the fishing rod still clenched in his hand. “Have you come to fish?”

“Yes.”

Frey beamed at him, cocking her head to the side in what was probably the most adorable thing Dylas had seen all season. She stood and stretched, and Dylas looked off to the side once more, biting his inner cheek. Her voice brought him back to reality, and Dylas’s head snapped over, having missed the question entirely. “What?”

“I said we could fish together.” Frey was halfway in the sand already, her arm cast out to show off her own rod, nestled between some rocks on the eastern side of the shore. “It’s why I was here so early,” Frey explained. “I wanted to catch the final summer fish before autumn hit, but it was just so nice out I couldn’t resist a nap in the sun!” Frey cast her gaze to the sky, shielding her eyes with a hand. “I didn’t sleep too long, did I?”

Dylas shook his head and walked down to the edge of the water, sitting in the sand. “No. It’s only just past noon.”

Frey brought her rod and basket over, settling down on Dylas’s left. “Excellent!”

Having the Princess so close to his person sent fire down Dylas’s spine, his tail flicking out behind him in agitation. She either didn’t notice or didnt care, humming to herself as she baited the hook and expertly cast out. Dylas followed suit.

He’d never been much for small talk, but Porcoline had been pressuring him to try and branch out more. . . Dylas chanced a glance over at Frey, who hummed to herself as she sat in the sand, swaying to her tune. The sun caught her hair in a halo, her bows shining in the light.

“Catch anything good today?”

Frey turned to him with another signature smile, eyes crinkling around the edges. Dylas’s heart skipped a beat. “I’ve caught a few Cherry Salmon and one or two Squid. I’m hoping for a Lamp Squid or a Rainbow Trout before the day’s over.” Frey leaned back and rested her rod between her legs, balancing on her forearms as she looked at Dylas. “What about you? Anything you’re hoping to catch?”

Dylas shrugged and leaned back as well, letting his hair fall in front of his face so he didn’t have to meet Frey’s gaze. So earnest, so cute. . . Dylas’s ears flattened against his head as he thought it over, trying to keep his thoughts on track. His tail flicked again. “Uh, didn’t really have a plan,” Dylas admitted. “Just thought about fishing. Maybe bring a few back to Porco.”

“That’s really sweet of you,” Frey said, reaching out and placing a hand on his shoulder. Dylas forced himself to meet her eyes, unable to keep from blushing. Frey tilted her head, before her eyes went wide. “Oh!”

“Yeah?” Dylas asked, throat going dry.

“Did you bring lunch?” Frey asked.

Dylas’s heart-rate slowed back down to normal palpitations. He shook his head and pulled back, tossing his hair over his shoulder. “Uh, no. Why?”

Frey turned on her side and Dylas nearly squeaked as she dug around in her basket. He drank in the smooth expanse of her shoulders, the slim curve of her waist, her hips, her legs. . . Dylas refused to look at anything else to preserve his own sanity. As Frey turned back around, he met her eyes with a forced smile that usually made the kids around town run away screaming.

But not Frey. Never Frey.

Instead, she handed him an ice cream cone.

His mouth dropped open in surprise. “Whoa, I can have this? Cool! Thanks. I love this stuff.” Dylas paused, before looking up at Frey. “How’d you even know I liked this?”

A mysterious smile made its way across Frey’s face as she looked back at him from where she’d busied herself with her rod. “Guess it was just a lucky guess.~” she teased.

Dylas couldn’t help but feel like the luckiest man in the world.